You In My Sweatshirt

      Hey you, you in my sweatshirt. I can barely contain what I feel for you. Or maybe I can’t contain it at all. I push and retreat, as you do. Like the moon and the sea, we are tied together whether we wish it or not.

      Hey you, you in my sweatshirt. Am I devouring or being devoured? I know I don’t know, I know I don’t care. Every moment intoxicating. Every intoxicated moment enrapturing.

      Hey you, you in my sweatshirt. I’d run to you if I could. I’ll run away if I need. Sometimes I don’t know if you’re demon or angel. A powerful force beyond comprehension, for certain. A muse, a temptation, a lover beyond measure. So much you could prove to be.

      Hey you, you in my sweatshirt. I’d fall asleep on your shoulder as soon as I’d take you in lust. A strange balance of peace and passion that makes no sense. That makes so much sense. I see us falling into unknown pleasures. I see us falling asleep as rain beats upon the windows.

      Hey you, you in my sweatshirt. A kiss of desire, a lingering torment. I can’t be yours until you’re mine. Yet I already am. You know it, as I know it. Your slave, your lover, your distant admirer. Nothing important is really ever left to me.